


Can't Beat That

by Micheoff



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Flirting, It's For Charity, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 07:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13699518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Micheoff/pseuds/Micheoff
Summary: In 2011 Michael and Miles were young and foolish so they made out just to make their friends laugh. In 2018 Michael and Miles aren't that young anymore but when they make out on camera during Extra Life for longer and certainly more graphically than necessary, well... yeah, at least they're still foolish.





	Can't Beat That

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this the spiritual successor to the first two (or three) chapters of Blackmail Material. It's not canon in the fic, but if you've read what is already out of the fic and you want to believe this is what happens years later... that's valid. This was also inspired by Lola... you ruined me with that ask you sent prompting this.

Extra Life is an incredibly meaningful charity event that Rooster Teeth has been doing for years and that the fans of the company love. Jack works the hardest he’s ever worked all year round to make sure the event doesn’t have too many hitches and that the fans (community, he’d say) have some fantastic goals to hit to encourage them donate. They can get signed and exclusive merchandise, they can win random things on set, they can hit a cumulative goal and get something big like an Achievement Hunter Musical, and they can even donate a certain amount of money to spin The Wheel Of Destiny which features fan and even staff submitted things for the people on stage to do. 

It’s a great opportunity to give money to a cause that needs it.

And one year Michael threw up twelve chocolate Lava Cakes into a toilet bowl while repeating how it was all “for the kids” and followed that up a few years later by being tasered twice on stage. So… clearly the event can’t end without Michael doing something ostentatious and unnecessary, yet sure to be the highlight of the whole stream. 

This time, however, it wasn’t planned.

It’s almost midnight when there’s a $1337 donation, the camera and the crew go wild, there’s an excited (yet a little bit terrified, thanks to Gus’s contributions to the penalties/goals added to the wheel) spin of the wheel, and then the quickly scribbled, “Strip Club Kiss,” that Barbara put up there while no one else was paying attention is zoomed in on.

Three people know immediately what that means, two of them not even having to know about the goal to get it right away. 

People are confused about it, Jack asking from where he’s sitting on a chair at the back of the set who wrote that and _why_ they wrote that, but Barbara’s just laughing and hiding her face in one of the beanbag chairs she’s laying on, Max and Chelsea eyeing her up in confusion from where they’re lounging beside her. She’s in hysterics, really, and finds the entire thing to be one of the more hilarious parts of the stream so far.

Michael cants his head from his chair, puts his hands up like he can’t be blamed for what’s going to happen now, and purses his lips as if the whole thing is outside of his hands entirely when he looks at Miles and says, “Fuckin’, I mean, the wheel landed on this, Miles. It’s for the kids. We’ve got to do the damn thing now.” 

But it’s all for the show. His words are at odds with the entire self-conscious shift of his demeanor the second Yssa jumps up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the rug beside Michael’s chair and begins to point ecstatically between the two of them at Michael’s admission of it being about them, cheering them on with, “BOY KISS! BOY KISS! BOY KISS!” while Miles laughs at her.

Miles is obviously unprepared for this, too, though. He’s shaking his head and snickering behind his hand uncomfortably just off camera by the Off Topic set, clasping at his elbow with his other hand in an almost crossing of his arms as he looks from Yssa to Michael to Barbara and then back, like _always_ , to Michael. His eyebrows are raised, leaning his upper body back a bit like he’s trying to take in what’s going on around him but is a bit blown over by it all. By the fact that Michael is even acknowledging this. Like Michael doesn’t have a history of ignoring kisses that involve the two of them.

Miles forces himself to uncover his mouth to speak, affecting a breezy, definitely-not-super-nervous-and-incredibly-terrified-by-this tone as he says, “I don’t know how well we can follow up on those kisses from last year, man. I mean, has anyone else kissed yet on stream? We, uh… I mean, I didn’t prepare to be kissing anyone on stream this year. I need to check my breath.” 

That gets a full-blown cackle from Jack of all people, who says, “You _willingly_ offer yourself up like a piece of meat and kiss someone every year, what’s so different this year? Does Michael scare you?”

Miles opens his mouth and then quickly realizes that he should shut up, so he clenches his teeth, shifts to the other foot, and looks from Jack to Michael. Looking at Michael is easier than trying to pretend like he can pay attention to anyone else at the moment, anyway. Even if watching Michael get progressively redder only makes Miles want to melt out of his skin, sort of. Or shout. It’s a wild sort of storm Michael turns his emotions into.

Michael’s emotions aren’t so much as a storm as they are a downpour. An all-encompassing, full-body immersion in the confusion, nerves, and I-haven’t-stopped-dreaming-about-your-lips-since-you-first-touched-mine-with-them-years-ago _want_ that drenches him. That wets him and soaks through to the marrow in him.

He stands up from where he was sitting over by the wheel on the right side of the set, scratches at the back of his neck before making some wide, high up above his head gesture with it, the words, “Well we’ll just have to try our hardest to one-up Ryan and Chad, then,” leaving his mouth before he even knows what he’s saying, arm dropping heavily back to his side.

Miles licks his lips, searching Michael’s face for something, and Michael cuts his eyes away because maybe… maybe Michael shouldn’t let Miles find whatever he’s looking for. It’s been years since they last did this, but it’s never changed for Michael. Not a day has gone by where he hasn’t felt exactly the same as he did when they kissed for the first time, fumbling and tipsy and foolish. They’re friends again — fucking _finally_ — proper friends who’ve been hanging out again semi-regularly without any problems for the past two and a half years and he can’t… he just _can’t_.

His eyes land on where Yssa is still excitedly clasping her hands together right up under her chin. She’s obviously excited by this for whatever weird reason and Michael tries to use that as a way to motivate his legs into moving, crossing over to where Miles has already moved to stand at the center of the stage, the focal point of the audience and attention at all times. He stops a few feet away from Miles because he can only manage to do so much. 

“Every time I walk on stage…” Miles trails off with a shake of his head, an exasperated sigh deflating his posture back down to something more relaxed (which Michael has to stop himself from thinking that that has any correlation to do with him getting closer).

Michael gets that Miles is talking about how he always ends up doing the most ridiculous shit whenever he’s called over up onto stage because his name is written on the Wheel of Destiny or someone just wants him there. He knows it’s not specifically about himself, but all Michael can think to fill in the rest of that sentence with is, _“…I think about kissing you,”_ or, _“…and see you there I lose track of what I was going to say.”_

He pulls in a tight breath, holds it just for a moment, before breathing out noisily. He has to put on a show here, so he can’t let his thoughts take over him. He has to steel himself, to cut everything he feels off like he always has to do when Miles walks into a room. It’s been getting easier, he’s thought, to act casual and relaxed around Miles since they’ve had to work together semi-regularly for the first time since way back at 636 when he’d make Rage Quit while Miles watched, stifling his laughter off to the side. Fucking ages ago is how long it’s been and Camp Camp, since it started, has been why Michael can ask Miles to hang out without worrying that he sounds too eager, too obsessed, or too in love.

“Like you don’t just fuckin’ _love_ the limelight,” he scoffs at Miles, because banter is friendly. Banter is normal and what everyone else does when they do these kisses on the stream. It’s what’s to be expected, really, and what also allows Michael the opportunity to shut off his brain for a few seconds because ripping into Miles is second nature to him and can be done in his sleep. “You know you love this shit. You just eat it up.”

Miles’s eyebrows shoot practically all the way up to his hairline at that, chin dipping as he looks at Michael with widening eyes, a sparkle there when he bites his bottom lip to keep from smiling. 

“Oh, come on, do you really think you have a leg to stand on here, Michael?” Miles posits back, barely containing how thrilled he is. “ _You_? If anyone eats this up it’s the guy who once ate twelve lava cakes in one sitting just for all the attention.”

“Ha,” Michael forces out flatly, almost choking on his tongue but thankfully managing not to even while Miles takes an intimidating step forward towards him in turn. “Right, first off, that was for the kids— and I invented that slogan, screw you all. Second off, remind me again how many times you’ve done some stupid shit like body shots or kissing someone during the Extra Life streams we’ve done? You can’t even remember them all, can you? Now how many times do you think I’ve kissed someone in front of a camera?”

Miles’s face shutters, too many emotions flickering across it at once to fully comprehend, and Michael realizes all too quickly that they both know the answer to that. 

There’s only ever been the one other time.

“I-I, uh…” Miles stumbles gracelessly. “I don’t think you really want me to answer that.”

Michael opens his mouth but nothing comes out, heart in his throat. He can’t say anything to that. Can’t even breathe or he might exhale desire and regret all over the two of them. He could give it all up in a snap, in a heartbeat. He has to break the eye contact between them, as overwhelming as it is, and cast a glance to his immediate left. He spots the main camera and can see the monitor in his peripheral displaying the two of them standing there, right in front of the entirety of the audience and the company. 

The last thing Michael wants Miles to do is give him an answer to that, he’s right. Or, at least, he doesn’t want an answer to that right _here_ in front of all these people and for everyone at home to hear.

Michael’s never had a contingency plan for something like this. He’s never thought he’d end up on the other end of one of these ridiculous kiss donations during Extra Life. Most people at the company know who he is so they never bother to disturb him with stupid fanservice shit like this, his reputation as the “Angry Rage Quit Guy” proceeding him even when he’s not actually that guy anymore. No one thinks to write him down for something he never agreed to in the first place, especially not when he’s actually there to blow up about it if he doesn’t like it.

But of fucking course Barbara actually knows him, so she knows that he wouldn’t just say fuck off to this with no explanation like he would had this not been a charity event. And Miles would do anything for Extra Life so it’s not like he even needed to be taken into account here. It’s just Michael who’s expected to say yes or no to this. He’s the one who decides if this happens or not. He’ll be the one to say, _“No, fuck you, Barbara, I didn’t sign up for this. Get someone else to do it. Tumblr already has all the content they need from Gavin and me last year.”_

She probably expects him to, actually. 

Or maybe… maybe Barbara knows more about this than Michael does. Maybe Barbara has been the only person to remember that thirty-second video that was sent to her phone seven years ago. Maybe she’s watched Michael and Miles drift apart and then come back together years later and she thought now would be as good a time as any to see if there’s still something there. If they can survive another kiss.

He thinks… he thinks they could. 

He thinks they’ll come out from the other side of this swimming instead of drowning.

“One other time,” Michael admits for the both of them as he turns back to look up at Miles, intentionally vague. “One other time,” he repeats, voice hard to disguise the sweat at the nape of his neck, to cover up the unsettled thrum of his pulse. “We’re practically pros at this. I think Chad and Ryan don’t know what they’ve been up against this whole time.”

He takes a step forward to match Miles’s, to be just those few inches closer together.

Miles slots his hands in his front pockets, thumbs out to curl in the belt loops of his jeans. He rocks a little on his heels, head to the side as he notes the step Michael just took. He’s not running away from this.

Miles brushes at the hair above his right ear, a nervous tick. He swallows nothing, asks, “D’you really think they knew what type of competition they’d have with us?”

“Yeah right,” Michael dismisses with an eye-roll, “they didn’t realize they had to compete with me. And even if they did I’d still give ‘em a run for their money. So what if Ryan’s never kissed anyone for Extra Life? All I have to do is let Gavin eat candy from my mouth and people lose their goddamn minds.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” he tells Michael as he takes another step, the confidence he always saves for flirting kicking in now that Michael’s agreeing to this and admitting after _years_ what went on between them. “I’m not going to let you get away with being so stiff, you know. You looked like a statue last year and I’ve got a reputation to uphold for these streams and I’ll loosen you up one way or the other to keep it. The audience knows what I’m talkin’ about; just look at Chad now.”

He watches Michael’s eyes flutter as he blinks quickly at that, a twitch to one of the hands at Michael’s sides. He doesn’t know if Michael is reacting to what he’s insinuating or if he’s remembering now that there’s an audience to this, but Miles smiles anyway. He can’t stop himself, really. Of all the ways he’s thought up for how he’d finally get Michael to admit to himself that they kissed and that it really fucking meant _something_ , he never thought they’d end up about to do it again — and on _stage_ during a _stream_ , for that matter.

Michael’s cheeks are stained red and his bottom lip is a little wet from the way he bites at it when Miles takes another step forward. They’re close now, finally within range to actually kiss each other, and Miles hears the way Michael inhales sharply and then stops himself from making a sweeter, sheltered noise by catching it in his throat. 

Miles’s palms itch, fingers curling into fists, and his body turns molten. 

If Michael thinks he’s going to come away from this kiss without letting Miles get him messy after that noise he just made then he’s got another thing coming, cameras be damned. He moves in again and now they’re just under a meter apart and Miles could reach out and grab Michael’s face any second now. 

Michael blows out a breath like he can’t believe it. Can’t fucking believe they’re back here again, in front of a camera again, about to ruin their friendship _again_. And maybe he’s going crazy or maybe he’s not and Miles really is looking at him like he’s about to ruin him, too. He doesn’t know how to read the look Miles is giving him, just knows that it makes his skin prickle exhilaratingly, and if this is how they blow the candle out for a second time at least he’ll get to taste Miles again. 

He licks his lips quickly at the thought alone, on autopilot.

“I just didn’t want to end up knocking into Gavin’s gigantic fucking schnozz,” he explains away easily like that has any truth to it.

Miles lets out an eardrum-bursting laugh at that. “ _Right_. That’s why you looked like your hands were glued to your sides. You didn’t even close your eyes, man, it was honestly terrifying. With me you were so— I mean, uh…” Miles catches himself.

They both blink. 

Miles doesn’t finish that sentence, but Michael knows what Miles was going to say anyway. Michael remembers too much of their first kiss for him to act like he doesn’t know all about the words Miles could use to describe the way he was practically climbing all over him while they were kissing. “Stiff” wasn’t even a word Michael knew the definition of when he was grabbing at Miles’s face and all but moaning into his mouth.

Suddenly there’s a loud, “ _Dudes_ , the wheel said give us a smooch, not foreplay! Do it! Just _do it!_ ” let out from across the room as Barbara shouts like Shia Labeouf at the two of them.

Almost at the exact same time as Barbara speaks up, someone who Michael doesn’t even know (probably from the animation department) calls out with a laugh, “Yeah! Shut up, grit your teeth, and kiss already!”

Michael almost snorts. Like he’d ever have to grit his teeth through a kiss with Miles. Like he’d do anything but melt into it. These people don’t have a clue.

“We’re getting to it!” Miles shouts back with a furrow of his brow and a mean squint at their noisy, impatient audience. It’s all for show, of course. Miles isn’t really mad, just playing it up for the actual audience behind the cameras. His tone is all mockingly offended as he insists, “You can’t rush romance, Babs! People don’t pay a thousand dollars for cheap tricks and two-second kisses. They pay a thousand dollars _for the kids_ and for _passion_!”

“Just stick your tongues in each other’s mouths, Miles!” Barbara yells back while grinning. “This is a charity stream, not a porno!” 

“Okay, right,” Miles laughs, no longer affecting a sonorous tone and instead aiming for the lighthearted, “ _definitely_ don’t phrase it that way because that makes this sound _exactly_ like something coming out of a porno.”

“If Kerry were here...” Michael mumbles.

When they first kissed back in 2011 Kerry had been the one holding the phone and recording it, joking about how he was like the fluffer in the shitty porno they were about to film. 

Miles gives a furtive glance to him from the corners of his eyes, not turning away from where he’s facing Barbara but acknowledging Michael all the same. The uptick to Miles’s mouth then is a good enough confirmation that Miles knows exactly what Michael’s remembering. They both thought the fluffer comment was hysterical back then and maybe Miles still does.

Miles turns back to Michael, opens his arms wide, and says with a wry smile, “Let’s get on with it before the kids get too impatient and let’s really stick it to Chad and Ryan, yeah?”

Michael doesn’t say anything in response, because sometimes Miles isn’t worth replying to when he’s being all annoying and showy. He just rolls his eyes and reaches up at the same time that he closes virtually all distance between them, accidentally stepping on Miles’s shoe in the process, and then he has to raise up an inch to catch Miles’s mouth. Which it figures that even after all these years have gone by Miles would still insist on aggravatingly making _Michael_ be the one to press their lips together even when he’s the shorter one here and has to do more to reach Miles’s mouth. 

But Michael closes his eyes and stretches to shut Miles up all the same, palms coming up to frame his cheeks a tad too roughly in haste. His thumbs rest over Miles’s cheekbones and he brushes them back and forth there once, a nervous tick he didn’t mean for as he feels Miles’s breath fan out over his lips. He doesn’t hold himself there for a minute to let the weight of what they’re about to do again sink in because sometimes you can’t linger on things, and he closes the little distance between them in a rush of movement and determination. He means only to kiss the smile right off of Miles’s mouth and simply let his brain turn off, heart falling from his sleeve.

Miles’s arms come down around Michael’s waist as Miles makes a high, surprised noise in the back of his throat that gets muffled by the press of Michael’s lips to his. As chaste as the kiss is, it still seems to make Miles stumble back a step, Michael forceful in a way he totally didn’t mean to be but can’t entirely stop himself from. Miles probably wasn’t expecting Michael to be the one to go for it first, but as Miles’s lips spread into a grin it’s safe to say he’s delighted by the surprise. Miles even goes so far as to tighten his arms around Michael’s waist, pulling him closer, their chests brushing for a moment in their sudden closeness.

Michael’s eyes flutter before he squeezes them closed even tighter at the feeling, cheeks getting hotter and his brow furrowing when he presses himself further into Miles’s space to try and get him to stop smiling.

Which Miles does, though it has less to do with Michael fruitlessly attempting to get him to stop being a prick and more so is just the side effect of Miles breaking the kiss to laugh in Michael’s face, pulling back to tip his head up and just cackle.

He doesn’t go too far away, leaning just enough back that only the tips of their noses touch for a moment. Miles lets out a series of giggles, that tittering laugh of his that makes it look like he’s trying to do anything BUT laugh, and Michael is kind of pissed, actually.

Like, what the hell? What’s so funny? He’s not a bad kisser, so what the fuck, Miles? Piece of shit.

Miles, managing to reign in his giggling to a quiet, spaced out, hiccuping sort of noise starts to explain like he can read Michael’s mind (or more likely he just saw the annoyed look on Michael’s face), “Sorry, sorry, just— you really weren’t listening to what I said at all, were ya’, bud?” 

And then, with probably the largest amount of gusto Miles has ever given anything, he lifts one of his hands to quickly grab the back of Michael’s head, keeping him still, and leans down to kiss Michael.

 _Really_ fucking kiss Michael. 

Miles opens his mouth, just a little, just enough to catch Michael’s bottom lip at first in a soft kiss that lingers there for a moment and makes something in Michael’s chest flutter and his stomach churn. And then he changes the angle a little and does it again, the hand in Michael’s hair tightening as he moves a little quicker, wetter this time.

Michael melts into it embarrassingly quickly. His eyes shut again, a natural instinct overtaking him this time. His jaw relaxes. His head naturally angles to the right, just because he remembers Miles going left the last time they kissed like this years ago. Miles wanted to make sure Michael wasn’t stiff? Yeah, well he fucking got it. _Easy_. Even while Michael’s nerves ignite and spark at the sudden change in pace, his whole body goes loose the minute Miles twists a tuft of Michael’s curls in his fingers absently, making Michael’s scalp tingle and something hot shoot to the soles of his feet.

And here’s the problem: Miles has this way about him when kissing that makes Michael forget everything around him like there’s nothing else that matters to him other than the soft plush of Miles’s lips pressing into his. Miles kisses Michael and the rest of the world falls away, the two of them the only thing left standing. Miles overwhelms him with so little that he forgets himself. Hell, all he has to do is _touch_ Michael and Michael turns to putty in seconds. It doesn’t even have to be sexual, just a slip of Miles’s hand over Michael’s elbow in passing to avoid knocking into each other has Michael’s breath catching in his throat and his pulse tripping foolishly. It’s maddening, is what it is, and it’s entirely too intoxicating not to be hazardous to Michael’s health. Miles smiles a little dirtily at him and all logical reasoning is thrown right out the fucking door. 

It happened last time and now it’s happening _again_. Because Miles is something like a drug, it seems. 

So Michael doesn’t even think about what he’s doing, with whom he’s doing it with, or where he’s doing it at before he parts his lips with an audible sigh. His hands slide down lower to cup Miles’s jaw fully, fingers curling, his short nails scratching at Miles’s beard with a satisfying scrape that makes every hair on his body stand to attention. His face goes hot as he pulls away mere centimeters before coming back to kiss Miles’s bottom lip wetly, still chaste, but there’s saliva pooling in his mouth as it waters. He presses in and he’s too bogged down by the possessiveness of Miles’s arm still around his waist to hear the way someone in the crowd of people around them says, loud like a car crash, “Oh my God,” in complete shock.

Miles makes another curious noise in the back of his throat, brow furrowing, his jaw clenching, and Michael almost has to break away to gasp when Miles switches his hold on him; Miles’s hand on the back of his head drops to catch Michael’s side and then his other arm disappears from around Michael’s back only for his fingers to span the length of Michael’s spine, unintentionally titillating, moving up from between Michael’s shoulder blades to grasp the back of Michael’s neck with a good amount of pressure, almost like how you’d do to placate someone into settling down. Michael’s stomach muscles clench, aching. 

Miles pulls back and their lips brush, not quite kissing now but right there, and Miles presses his forehead against Michael’s. 

“ _Slow_ ,” is all Miles mumbles roughly for explanation. 

But Miles can’t even listen to his own command, the grip he has on Michael’s neck not letting up and neither does the intensity of Miles’s kisses as he dives back in. 

Michael’s nerves are twisted terribly, body hot everywhere but practically scorching at the core of him, and when Miles turns his head this time to kiss Michael’s bottom lip Michael doesn’t want to be slow. Doesn’t want to listen so obediently this time around. So he doesn’t. 

Michael tips his head as Miles goes low and his tongue slips out from his lips _just_ so as he licks up from Miles’s bottom lip and into his mouth, closing his lips around Miles’s upper lip, not even being timid about it. Miles goes stiff and Michael wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead he does it again, at a different angle, and his entire body throbs when Miles moves into him like he gets it now, hand on Michael’s neck so tight it might already be bruising. 

Miles doesn’t want to be upstaged here. 

The only thing Miles wants at the moment, actually, is to grab Michael by the jaw and show him what it’s like to really make someone lose their composure. To get Michael so fucked he isn’t even aware of where he is or what’s happening around him, only focused on what’s happening _to_ him. What Miles can make him feel. 

But, as Miles grips harder at the nape of Michael’s neck and holds him in place so he can get one foot between Michael’s and press himself to Michael’s front, he can hear the way Michael pants out the quietest, mind-meltingest “ _hah_ ” sound against his mouth and he knows he’s already caught Michael in his spider’s web. He doesn’t have to lift another finger, Michael like this just from the little kissing they’ve done, and if Miles could bottle this feeling up — this honest to god power high that makes his fingertips go numb — he’d do it just to taste it again later, just to be reminded what having Michael this pliant for him feels like. 

He flutters his eyes open lowly to watch, almost entirely through his lashes, in unadulterated fascination as Michael’s nose flares and he licks his lips, tilting his chin up, and then Miles has to close his eyes as Michael kisses him again. 

There’s an urgency to the way Michael kisses him. Like he knows this is their last kiss. That the second they part for real they’ll just be friends again. But Miles doesn’t want that. Not anymore. Not when he can feel Michael’s heart slamming against his chest as their torsos touch. Not when Michael is clutching at his face like that, too, is the last thing he wants. Like if Michael could he would wave a hand and they’d be back in 2011, back in Brandon’s car, back in Miles’s lap, back to licking at the roof of Miles’s mouth and pressing his hard-on against Miles’s stomach in front of all their friends and not giving a single fuck in the moment like the besotted fools they were. Like the fools they _still_ are. 

Foolish. Michael said that himself on the Achievement Hunter podcast a few years ago. Of course Miles watched it. Young and foolish, was it? That’s how Michael waved his hand over the admittance that they’d kissed once. Miles can’t wait to see how Michael explains away the way he’s panting into Miles’s mouth now on the next podcast. See if he can get away with saying he was just being foolish this time. 

Miles knows he shouldn’t, but he wants to make it harder to explain. Harder to avoid. Harder to pretend it didn’t happen this time around. Harder for Michael to leave Miles confused and crushed when he doesn’t pick up his calls. Harder for Michael to act like Miles doesn’t exist when he’s still sensitive around his neck from Miles’s fingers and the stage lights start to make him sweat but not the same way Miles did from touch alone. 

Miles opens his mouth wider this time and when they come together again it’s _filthy_ , Miles too busy trying to get Michael to go weak at the knees and fall into him to care if the camera notices that he slides his tongue into Michael’s mouth this time. Just like that, Michael’s hands go from gripping at his jaw to burying themselves into Miles’s hair like if he doesn’t start to tear at Miles somewhere he’ll end up tearing at himself, rip his clothes off and jump on Miles the way the whine that leaves his mouth then suggests he wants to. 

Michael’s trying to go fast, forceful in the way he eagerly kisses back, slots their mouths together, pulls away, goes back for more. It’s heedless and Miles wonders if Michael even realizes what he’s doing. If Michael even registers how open his movements are and how easy it would be for Miles to just walk Michael backwards and get him on that chair he was sitting in, turn him over, press himself along Michael’s back right there on stage. He thinks Michael would be too dazed to really notice that they weren’t alone if he did try it. 

Or maybe Michael wouldn’t mind either way. 

Maybe he’d like it more, what with the way he loves attention.

Miles himself would prefer if they were alone, kind of hates but at the same time likes that this is happening in front of so many people. He doesn’t want to share Michael, doesn’t want anyone else to see this side of him, but then there’s that possessive side to him that he tries to keep chained up that wants everyone to know that only he can get Michael like this, that Michael would fall to his knees if Miles weren’t there to hold him up and coax him into standing with him. 

And then there’s the pride of knowing that Michael’s going to be thinking about this later when he’s alone with his thoughts… and there’s too much of it to bear. 

Miles forces himself to keep his hands where they are instead of sliding them under Michael’s armpits and picking him up, getting Michael’s legs around his waist and doing… unspeakable things to him. His mind is running too fast to keep up with and it’s getting harder for him to keep his mouth shut. Michael hasn’t been able to stop himself from making noise, but at least it’s been quiet. Miles isn’t so sure he himself could be. He’s loud all the time and when he gets turned on that doesn’t exactly stop. It gets worse. It’s not just sex noises either because he’s even more talkative when he gets hot under the collar, his brain always so sporadic, and he can’t exactly stop himself from running his mouth, no filter when he crosses a certain point. 

And Michael is one more hushed moan and eager tug at Miles’s bottom lip with his teeth away from making Miles lose it right in front of everyone. His entire body is tingling and he feels all of his desires bubbling up, more than they should just from making out, but it’s _Michael_ and Miles can’t help it. Can never help it when it comes to Michael. 

He’s yearned for this for seven years. 

Seven years of accidental touches. Seven years of surreptitious glances. Seven years of laughing too hard at times when nothing was that funny. Seven years of staring at his phone’s contact list and thinking, _“Maybe if I…”_ but never actually doing it. Seven years of holding himself back, of staggering their interactions for the safety of his own heart, feelings raw even after all this time. Seven years of being in love with a guy who used to flirt with him all the time before they actually kissed. Seven years of Miles putting Michael first and letting him distance himself if he wanted, not wanting to push, but, deep down, not wanting to try either or risk being hurt more than he already is. 

Seven years of _everything_ all pent up into one kiss. It’s getting too much. 

They have to stop. 

They have to stop right now and Miles needs to excuse himself and go home long enough to take care of this energy and _need_ before it leaks out of him and makes him whisper right into the sensitive shell of Michael’s ear that, _“Right now the only thing I can think about is getting you on your back and fucking you until I’m dripping out of you and you’re shaking too much to even kiss me. So you can’t forget me this time.”_

He needs to let Michael go. Right now. 

_Right now_. 

Michael can feel something in Miles shudder when he kisses him again, feels the way Miles’s hand spasms against his hip, and Michael practically preens at it. The fact that Miles is reacting to him so viscerally that he can’t stop himself from shaking makes Michael want to shout from the rooftops. Miles’s heartbeat is raucous and rapid against Michael’s chest and sets Michael’s skin on fire, cheeks flushed with satisfaction. The reassurance that Miles is right there with him in this satiating some of those nerves. 

One of Michael’s hands slides away from Miles’s hair to grab onto the side of his neck, getting better leverage to pull him down some more, and Michael lets his mind shut down so he can just kiss Miles. Tongue, teeth, ragged breaths. Michael feels it all, hears it all, and is overwhelmed at just how sensitive he is to touch now, how the smallest noises that escape Miles’s mouth between kisses make something in him clench and fizzle. 

He’s trying not to make it too obvious how quickly he’d move the way Miles wants if he told him to, how easy he is, but all of the sudden Miles releases the hold he has on the back of Michael’s neck and he literally freezes and stops right as he presses his lips to Miles’s mouth again. If Miles isn’t there to encourage him to move he doesn’t want to risk being the only one invested in this. The hand on Michael’s hip falls away. 

Michael’s going to pull back and drop his hands from Miles too, but then Miles makes this… _noise_. Not quiet, but not loud either. Like he was forcing himself to keep it down. Something like a growl, almost, or a rumble from the back of his throat. If he weren’t literally just kissing Michael, Michael might have thought the noise was from anger, but in context it seems like… frustration?

Miles’s mouth opens against Michael’s and Michael’s expecting him to start making out with him right away, but instead Miles pants out the words, “Wanna tie—” before he starts kissing the hell out of Michael, almost like he’s trying to shut himself up. 

He’s way more aggressive now, even _biting_ Michael’s lip, which means Michael has to grip tighter onto Miles’s hair or risk doing something embarrassing like melting to the floor, boneless and messy just from that. He’s electric, body lit up, and Miles is moving like he’s trying to get closer when it’s literally impossible, mouth never leaving Michael’s, and Michael thinks he might start hyperventilating if Miles doesn’t give him the chance to breathe properly. 

Both of Miles’s hands come up to clutch onto Michael’s forearms and Michael opens his eyes for the first time in what feels like forever, vision blurry but unable to focus on anything other than Miles anyway. He moves back, has to breathe, and when he sees just how flushed and desperate Miles looks he kind of feels a little bad. But mostly? Mostly he just wants to kiss down Miles’s throat. 

He thinks he could stare at Miles like this forever, memorizing how he looks. 

But then something changes. Miles’s shoulders pull taught and he raises back up, Michael’s hands slipping from where he was still touching him and making Miles’s hands fall away from him too. He looks like he wants to say something, tell Michael something secret, but instead he turns his head, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Michael blinks and turns to follow Miles’s gaze and… _right_. Right, Michael is a fucking _idiot._ How could he fucking forget the fact that they weren’t alone? Why does this happen every fucking time Miles kisses him? Better yet, why do they only ever kiss in front of an audience?

Miles steps back first because he has to. Because he can tell Michael won’t do it first. 

He knows he’s red in the face and probably looks more flustered than one should when just kissing a friend for charity. But, honestly? Miles is too busy using all of his brain power to hold himself back from doing something he shouldn’t to Michael in front of a live studio audience to care right now about appearances. 

Michael turns back to look at him with wide, confused eyes. Like he thinks Miles has somehow abracadabraed his senses away. Or maybe like he’s just now remembering that there’s other people around them, just like the last time they kissed when he got so embarrassed he started stuttering and didn’t know what to say. Miles had to break the awkward silence by laughing, making everyone fall comfortably into something comedic, and the relieved, thankful look Michael sent his way all but had Miles writing his wedding vows. 

He wants that again. Wants Michael to give a relieved sigh, press his cheek to Miles’s shoulder, and wrap his arms around him like he doesn’t plan on hiding from this this time around. 

He doesn’t want Michael to think this was a mistake, even if… okay, admittedly, they should have toned it down. But… Miles is a human being like anyone else and only has so much control, you know? And if he’s really expected to maintain that control even when Michael is intentionally trying to get him to kiss him harder then _fuck_ that, man. 

Mind swimming, Miles tears his eyes away from Michael’s swollen, cherry red lips, and, not giving a damn about how hoarse his voice sounds, says, “I’d like to see Chad and Ryan even fucking _try_ to compete with that.”

The astonished, stunned silence that had captivated everyone on set finally breaks, Miles always able to alleviate even the most uncomfortable tensions.

“Tumblr’s going to go absolutely _insane_ if they haven’t already,” Jack says in a mix between awe and confusion, not able to pick up his jaw.

There’s understandably some laughter (most of it forced, he thinks), but then less understandably there’s also some clapping and actual wolf whistling. 

Miles squints and looks for the clappers first. Yssa and Kyle haven’t stopped clapping since Michael and Miles had broken away. Yssa is jumping around in her little panda kigurumi and Kyle is shaking his head back and forth like he knows exactly what just happened (which he does, because he was there years back, always the smart one who’d get Miles to stop being an idiot whenever he would reach for his phone to call Michael while drunk off his ass and too sappy to keep all of his feelings deep down in a hellish hole of repression). 

Chelsea still has her fingers in her mouth as she whistles again, absolutely thrilled. And Max, who’s got a stiff hand poised in a salute at his forehead, declares in a deep voice, “Y’all make me so proud, you goddamn _heroes_!”

Miles smiles at that, because he can’t not, and then he turns to look at Michael with bated breath. He’s said his part. 

Michael’s heart is beating heavily, not exactly fast but present, each beat throbbing in his ears. He’s embarrassed, of course, but more than that he’s nervous. Because now that he and Miles are no longer kissing that means they have to talk. They have to look at each other and make a decision about where this is going to go. Michael has a fairly good idea how Miles feels. After all, he’s not the one who ignored this… _thing_ between them, that was all Michael. So it’s Michael again that has to decide how to broach this, whether to hedge his way around the history between him and Miles or fall into it. 

He glances at Miles, appreciates the mess of him, the shake to his hands that he’s not hiding all too well. Miles looks back at him, meets him with anticipation and hope and something riskier that makes Michael want to do things he absolutely should _not_ do unless they’re alone and foolish. 

It’s his turn.

He spikes the camera, points directly at it, and dares anyone else to even _try_ to, “Beat _that_.”


End file.
